The Sticky Spider-Gobbling
by Bloodmage
Summary: A confused Peter Parker learns that Harry Osborn is a little more than obsessed with Spider-Man. Has the revelation awakened his own feelings, or has his mental state fabricated them?
1. Clue In The Bedroom

"I'm going to get you," shouted Dr. Octopus, PhD., just before Spider-Man punched him in the face, ever so very hard. They had been fighting across the New York skyline for several hours now. Peter had grown sluggish, and that was the last of his strength-and well timed, too. "Well, maybe next we meet," the doctor said with a sneer before falling unconscious. "Beat me to it, Tattoo Nightmare," Spider-Man quipped as he shot some webbing out. It cradled the mad scientist. In a daze, the doc reached up with his only free hand, a human one. There was a bright white glare. Spider-Man left him hanging.

Spider-Man-he, in that moment, could barely be called such a thing, for his spandex were a mess-tattered from head to setules. "Great, and I'm late on rent this week, " Peter mumbled and squealed. "Well," he started, curling the corners of his lips, "Harry lives nearby." Harry Osborn had been Peter's best friend since the 1960's, when they were kids. He knew Spider-Man's true identity.

RiiiiNG-A-diNG-BLING! the bell yelled. "Classy Harry," Peter said, almost actually venomous. He couldn't help it sometimes, it was part of his condition. A man dressed as a butler opened the door. "Hello, Mr...?" Peter said and questioned while squinting. "Butler," the man replied. Peter was yet to be sure if he was, in fact, a butler. "But my friends call me Pennyworth."

"Because you're worth every cent?"

"Because I have a dry sense of humor."

"What?"

"Harry is in his room. Upstairs, third floor, take a left, pass a few plants." New house (mansion), new butler. Harry's butlers are paid very well to keep secrets.

"Well, just how many do I pass?"

"They're bunched together. After you pass them turn left, twice, second door on the left."

"That all?" Peter bitched sarcastically with a wobble of his head.

"The password is 122 Liquorish." Suddenly Peter clenched his chest and began to breath heavily. Sweat dripped down his face. It was salty. "I'll get you some refreshing H20," the butler said and he vanished.  
Peter hunched over grasping his chest and heaving wildly. With his free hand he leaned against the wall. His eyes looked as if tears were about to spring out, then his face grew red like anger. Finally his cheeks puffed with air, then released. Relief. When "Mr. Butler" returned, Peter was already gone.

I'm here. I'm floating up the stairs, oddly lifted by my recent experience, when I hear the butler's sighs. He must be disappointed in my manners. I don't have time for his shenanigans, though. The wallpaper is a yellow that looks ashamed of its existence, like it's in the process of running from where it clings. I hope he has yet to take care of it. On the wall is the Green Goblin, Harry's father, looking as intense as always, and posing in his best suit, one of hundreds of best suits he owned, and wearing a pink tie.

When I get to his room I hear a white noise. I say the password. Nothing happens. Not even a tear like before. That's good. The door is unlocked. I let myself in and am confused. Everywhere, splashed over his walls are pictures of me. Well, not me, but Spider-Man. I didn't know. I consider leaving, but I really need the change of clothes and fresh suit I keep with Harry. I see it, it's hanging on the wall, it seems on display. I grab it, but I still need street clothes. I consider taking some of Harry's, but they'd be too small for me. I'm very muscular, after all. I hear the white noise dissipate and Harry comes out of what I assume must be the bathroom. He's naked and holding a picture of Spider-Man, wrapped in plastic. It's wet as if he took it into the shower. "Peter!" he shouts. I look away. "What are you doing here?" he says nonchalantly. I see him getting dressed out of the corner of my eye. "Wow Pete, you look a mess."

"Yeah, that's why I'm here. I, uh, didn't know you were such a big fan." Suddenly Harry looks embarrassed, or maybe I was just imagining things.

"Well, we used to be so close. Now you only hop on by to pick up things."

"Harry, your father tried to kill me several times."

"I'm not my father."

"You've tried to do me in several ways."

"In the past, Pete. In the past. You know me. You know I've changed. We should hang out sometimes."

"Ok, but right now, I need my street clothes. Then I need to get back."

"To your wife?"

"Y-yeah. My wife."

Harry smiled.


	2. The Temporary Apartment

2  
The Temporary Apartment

 _Every rose has its thorns  
Just like every night has its dawn  
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song_

Peter's phone was ringing. It was Harry. Again. This would be the third time since the encounter, which Peter felt was awkward, he had tried to contact Peter without a response. Three times without a reply would seem suspicious, Peter concluded with his muddled mind.

"Hey Tiger," said Mary Jane. She was standing in the doorway, a shadow in the corner of Peter's eye. He was straining his eyes on the screen of his cell phone, brows looking worried. "What's up?" she asked, still receiving no response. MJ walked into the kitchen and over to Peter. He was at the table with a plate full of eggs, untouched. A tap on his shoulder woke him up. "Oh sorry, I had spaced out," he said.  
"So, how did the search for an upgrade go?" she asked.  
"Not well. Unless you want marginally better, you need to find a better job. Speaking of which, how did the interview go?" he asked, slowly picking up his fork to his lips. The eggs had gone cold.  
"It went well, "she replied, speaking "well" with a bit of hesitation. Peter wasn't so sure and raised his brows at her. She had just taken some OJ out of the fridge and took a seat across from him. It looked as if she pouted for a second. "Well, they really liked me, but said I was overqualified and would have to think about it."  
"That's ridiculous."  
"I know! What does it even matter?"  
"No-I mean, you have an associates in Liberal Arts."  
"What's that suppose to mean?" she questioned harshly.  
"Just, you know, how could you be overqualified?"  
"Real nice, jerk, "she said, then got up and walked out of the room, not hesitating to scowl at him as she did so. Those angry eyes never left him until she was out the door.

After that squabble, where Peter was left confused, as he often had been with Mary Jane-she was always putting feelings over reasoning- he had felt particularly impulsive. Is that logical or emotional? Perhaps it's only natural. In either case, Peter picked up his cell phone and called Harry. Mary Jane was about to reenter the room when she heard Peter on the phone. She decided to wait until he was finished. "Yeah, I'd like to go out. For lunch, sure. Later, Harry." When he hung up, she entered.  
"Going out with Harry?" she asked, entering the room.  
"Yeah, why not?"  
"You haven't been out much lately. It's good you have a friend again, you know, aside from me and those guys you fly around with."  
"I don't fly."  
"So how'd that happen?"  
"Well," Peter began, then worried if he looked flushed, "I needed a spare costume and Harry was nearby. He still had one from when we were close."  
"Well, say hi to him for me."  
"Will do, and hey, I'm sorry." Even if Peter felt he had done nothing wrong, he had hurt her feelings a bit, and thought it not a big enough matter to take a stand on.  
"I'm sorry too, I may of overreacted a little," she said, giving him a kiss.


	3. Fated By Lunch

"Damn, this is huge," mumbled Peter as he stood before the doors to a café.

"Of course it is. I own it," said the familiar snarky voice of Harry Osborn.

Peter flinched, twitched his head, then whirled around, squealing. Huffing, he keeled over. The softest, but most masculine hand melted against his forehead.

"Woah there," said Harry. "You feeling okay, Pete? We could have postponed this, you know. I can wait." Peter felt a little delirious. Was that a wink, or had the wind just hit Harry in the eye?

Peter wasn't sure what to say so he just looked up then glanced away when his eyes met Harry's. He stood himself up. "You own this place?" he choked out.

"Yeah, Pete. I made it just for you," Harry said, smiling. "Well, to honor Spider-Man, that is."

Peter looked up at the building. How hadn't he noticed? The entirety of the construct was painted red and blue, and made to look as if it had webbing. "For...me?" he muttered.

"Yeah, Pete," Harry said, then looked around. He placed a finger over Peter's lips. "I mean, Spider-Man." Peter gasped.

"W-well," Peter began, then cleared his throat. "Shall you enter?" he asked, then blinked and cleared his throat again. "I mean, let us go. In." Was he sweating now? Why was he sweating now?

Harry just smiled mildly. Or was he amused? Peter could never tell.

Suddenly, a hand on his back snapped him to reality. Peter, feeling like he was sweating off a sickness, followed Harry inside. The place was very open, the walls white, and the lights bright. Children laughed, running up and down tubes and slides. The walls told of the heroes' adventures, sometimes with a single picture, other times with giant comic book-like panels. It was one vast, open area, except Peter could see a wall of elevators far off on the back wall. He followed Harry towards them.

"'Sup, peach," Harry said, pointing guns at a pretty lady behind a counter. She giggled.

"Hey, Mr. Harry."

The inside of the elevator was as lavish as possible. It ran up a see-through tube. "The hundredth floor? One hundred floors?" Peter gulped.

"Yeah, Pete. All dedicated to you. All themed for different audiences. Younger fans, older fans, masculine fans, the girlies, private birthdays of all themes, hang-outs...memorials for when you die," Harry began to say. "Hey, don't look so serious, Pete. We all die eventually."

"Y-yeah. And the 100th floor?"

"The special room. For special quests. For you," Harry said, glancing at Pete, then fixing the collar of his tuxedo.

They stepped out of the elevator into a lounge. Peter's expression was near indescribable. He looked shocked, angry, amazed, bewitched, amongst so much more. The walls were glass like that of an aquarium, bending around the elevator shaft. Inside was an entire microcosm of an ecosystem. A lion chased a gazelle.

"Is this even legal?" demanded Peter.

"The lion never catches it. Plus, why not? It is only nature."

"What?"

"Yeah, we intentionally bred a slow lion with low stamina, and a super strong gazelle. We feed the lion just enough that the gazelle is usually not even bothered. Soon, this lion will know not to bother, then we'll send it to a zoo to breed. We'll bring one of its younger siblings in, then," Harry explained. Peter didn't know what to say. After a moment Harry led him to a huge sofa, then clapped his hands. A robot was raised through the floor. "What would you like, Pete?"

"I'm not feeling very hungry, Harry," Peter responded.

"Come now, don't let this ruin our day. I promise you, it is amazing, and no worse than a zoo. In fact, we let the animals be themselves, to an extent. It is better. More authentic."

"W-well, what can I have?"

"That question does not exist here. Name it, and so long as it is legal, we have it."

"Uh, a diet coke and some French fries?"

"Okay," Harry said, a star collapsing in his eyes.

"I mean. Wine, your oldest vintage, and French fries," Peter said to the robot. Harry's lips twitched. "Hold the French," Peter said with a smile. Then they smiled, together.

"Wine mixed in the blood of virgin calves for me," said Harry. "And French fries," he added. "Hold the French," he smiled. They laughed.

"Wait, what was that?"

"A joke, Pete. One you made. You stupid?"

"I'm sorry?"

"No, Pete. I'm sorry." Harry offered his hand. Peter took the soft, masculine thing in his, and smiled.

 _Is this our first squabble?_ thought Peter. _Wait, Pete, what are you thinking? Peter! We've fought many times before, but this, I just. This is different, somehow._

"Pete. How's the wife?"

"Wife? Oh, she's, you know."

"No, I don't know. Tell me," Harry said, moving closer and dropping an arm on the top of the sofa. It fell so close to Peter that the smell was almost too close, because he had heightened senses, and it made him feel strange. "Pete, you know I love you," Harry began. Peter's heart jumped. "Like a brother," he continued, grinning. "You can tell me anything." The robot returned with the ordered items and they began to eat and drink.

"Well." Peter wanted to say what he felt, what he always felt, but what that was, he was not so sure anymore. And worse, who was he feeling it for? "It's complicated."

"Complicated? Complicated how?"

 _How? I am worried I might be gay. And from your perspective, I am probably weird. But, hey, I can still pretend to play this cool, right? There is no reason for him to think I am attracted to him, right? So, from here on out, if I just act normal, I can just come off as nervous, because it is really you who is being weird, right?_ Peter paused, realizing something. _If I am serious about him, I shouldn't hide it, right? Shouldn't I make it obvious, but not be weird about it? Wouldn't that be normal? And maybe he feels the same, and maybe this is all just a misunderstanding, and I'll be shot down. But that too is normal, right? Yeah! It is! But, then maybe we won't be able to be friends. That's normal too, I suppose. But I'm used to hiding. Maybe I'd rather we just remain friends, and not take the chance. I'm such a coward._ Then Peter realized he had been staring at Harry for a couple of minutes as he soliloquied to himself. _Definitely weird. In the least, definitely weird._

A fire lit up behind Harry's eyes. "Pete, when I said loved you earlier, I meant it. You know, like...gay."

Peter smiled and wanted to say that thing closest to him, but he didn't. Harry didn't seem to mind the quiet. He just moved his lips close to Peter's.


	4. Under the Black New York Blanket: Part I

The moon was full. Webbing caught another building, and Peter wished he could feel the cool air on his face. _Although_ , he thought, _dodging flies isn't always possible_. It was the ones who meant him no harm that were the most trouble.

A crimson billboard caught the corner of his eye. _MJ_. _Harry_. _I did the right thing_ , he told himself. Feathers fell on his head. _Not again_ , he sighed. It had happened many times, too many to count, but the lives of people were more important. He had tried to make the webbing more visible, but at night, that didn't always matter. Most could sense danger in the air, but some were simply unfortunate. They were probably the young ones.

Then Peter was falling.

Spider-Man wanted to catch himself, but something airborne struck his head. Then his back hit steel. Horns, everywhere. He was struck again.

 _Huh? Who? Oh. Man-Wolf,_ thought Peter. How long had it been? The beast was making grotesque sounds. Spider-Man shook his head then jumped to the concrete. Man-Wolf was hissing and coming at him again. Spider-Man shook his finger at him, "I'll be with you in a moment." Man-Wolf's jaw was tough, but Spider-Man was stronger.

"Hey, are you okay?" Spider-Man asked the driver. She held the side of her head. "Has someone called an ambulance?"

"Yeah, Spidey," a man said.

"Great. Well, I've got a dog to walk." Spider-Man leapt towards the beast crawling to his feet, arms out-stretched. "Does your daddy know what you're up to, Man-Wolf?" The man-creature stumbled back, again and again as saliva and teeth came flying from his mouth.

"Spider. Man," the creature growled. "I. Know."

 _He knows?_

"I. Know."

A sick feeling swept over Peter. _What does Man-Wolf know_? In the last second he had pushed Harry away. No, this doesn't make any sense. Peter stared at the creature as it cackled. Then it was Spider-Man's turn to get smacked around. _Mary Jane. Harry._ The cackles grew louder as his vision dimmed. "I. Know," Man-Wolf declared between cackles. _Mary Jane._ The depthless portals pierced Peter, as only a monster who knew the man could. Have _I grown too comfortable with you?_

"No!" Spider-Man shouted and launched a punch at full strength. A _snap_ sent shivers down Peter's spine.


	5. Under the Black New York Blanket: II

"Peter!" gasped Mary Jane. "Are you alright?"

 _MJ_ , Peter thought, and took a step towards her. She moved back, glanced away, then moved into his arms.

"It was an accident," she murmured.

"I lost control, MJ. I lost control," he whispered, the sounds muffled by her hair, which was growing damper by the second. "I lost control, MJ. What do I do?" She pushed him back to arms length and looked him in the eyes.

"You just left. You need to go to the authorities." She gave him a tissue.

"What good will that do now? They are going to want my identity. I can't."

"You don't know that. You're a hero. They'll understand."

"No, Mary Jane. This is it. Spider-Man can be no more. I see no other way."

Mary Jane gave him a long look, then tried to smile. "Maybe you're right. I don't really agree. You really should go to the police, but maybe that'll just be a bad idea. But you know, even so, it is your responsibility. Maybe Spider-Man can no longer roam the streets of New York. But talk to Tony. You can still be an Avenger, when needed. It's too big a part of your life, and I know you won't be happy if you're not saving lives." Peter's throat was dry, so he only nodded. "Maybe not today or tomorrow, but..."

The phone rang. Mary Jane made a face, sighed, then walked over to it. "Hello? Oh, hi Harry. Yeah, he's here. Yeah, he's talking about quitting Spider-Man. Uh huh. Do you want to talk to him? Okay, I'll put him on." Peter studied the phone held out in front of him. He gulped, then took it.

"Hi Harry. Yeah. I don't really feel good right. I can't promise anything, I think I'm done. Yeah. For now."

That night Peter slept alone. Mary Jane said she needed some time to think and slept on the couch. He had offered to himself, but she had insisted. When he woke up she was not there. He panicked before remembered she recently started a new job.

"Hey MJ," Peter said into his cellphone. "Yeah. I guess I did. Just. You know, have a good day. I will. Love you." As he shut the phone off a knock shook the door. _The police,_ Peter panicked. But no, of course, it was Harry Osborn. Peter's heart raced.


	6. Hello, Harry

"H-Harry. What a pleasant surprise," Peter said. Harry let himself in. He was flashing a huge smile.

"Hey, Pete. Sorry about everything." His smile vanished. "You holding up?"

"Yeah, Harry. I'm...I'm alright."

"No, Pete, I don't think you are." Harry moved closer to Peter. Peter's heart raced. "There's no reason to hide anything from me, Pete. We're best friends, right?" His eyes gave off a sternness and compassion that Peter thought he had never seen from Harry Osborn.

"Yeah, Harry. We're friends."

"What happened, Pete?"

"I...I lost control."

"Why, Pete?" Harry tilted his head, as if he already knew the answer. But that was impossible!

"I was scared...confused..." Peter started feeling ill. He had to tell himself to stop holding his breath. _It's not true. It's not true! Mary Jane, where are you? MJ!_

"About what, Pete?"

"Harry, please, stop this."

"Stop what, Pete? You said we were friends. Friends tell each other what is wrong."

"Not this, Harry...Not this." Peter said, as if they didn't already share _that_ moment. "Mary Jane..."

"Isn't here right now. But you've got me. Tell me, Pete. What's wrong?"

"I'm scared Harry! Scared I may not be who I thought I was! Scared that I might be gay!"

Like a magnet, Harry grabbed Pete and kissed him. Again, and again, and Peter did not resist. No, instead he kissed Harry passionately, like he thought he never did with Mary Jane.


	7. Epilogue

Harry pulled his cell phone to his ear. "Hi, Pete. What's up?" he asked. "Oh, you're getting a divorce?" Harry began to laugh. "That's for killing my father!" Harry hung up on Peter. He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a drink. His body kept moving spastically in laughter as he threw the scotch down his throat. He coughed, and wiped his mouth, then repeated the whole process.

"You shouldn't use people's sexuality against them, Master Harold," said Pennyworth.

"Oh, shut up, butler! This was necessarily. For my _father_ ," spat Harry.

"My dear Harold. Peter didn't kill your father. I dressed the wounds. They were of his own doing...the blades from the glider."

Harry turned to the butler. " _What_ did you say?"

"It was your father's own doing that killed him. He likely attacked Spider-Man with the remote glider, and Peter dodged it. Then..."

"I get it, Pennyworth." He slammed the glass down. "Why am I only hearing this now?"

"Erm, an oversight, I suppose. You were so wrapped up in your work, and you had gone to that place your father had. I didn't think you'd believe me."

"I've ruined his life...but, maybe it was for the best."

"He could have just been troubled, or bisexual, Harry."

"Well," said Harry, pouring two glasses and offering one to Pennyworth. "At least my father is laughing in Hell."


End file.
